Chapter 21

CHAPTER 21

A fter an uncomfortable silence, Charles finally cleared his throat. "I… shall I order the tea straightaway?" he suggested at last and Abigail looked at him gratefully.

"Yes of course," she accepted the offer quickly, smiling quite uncomfortably.

"I suppose we ought to talk… about your duties and so on… as a duchess," Charles continued heavily and Abigail looked at him uncertainly.

"Let me show you to the drawing room," he said and he started walking at once, Abigail in tow. Once they arrived inside the drawing room, Sebastian pulled the bell cord by the door, and within moments, Mrs. Morgan appeared.

"Tea for two, Mrs. Morgan," Charles requested. "Please. We will take it here — in the drawing room."

Mrs. Morgan nodded and left at once — an awkward silence settling between Charles and Abigail once more. Abigail smoothed her skirts awkwardly while Charles found himself quite fascinated by the pattern on the carpet.

Mercifully, the silence was soon broken by Mrs. Morgan's return with the tea tray. She set it down on the small table between them and glanced from one to the other before she poured two cups full to the brim.

"Anything else, Your Grace?" she asked with a glance at Charles. He looked at Abigail before shaking his head. "No thank you, Mrs. Morgan," he said at last. "That will be all."

As the housekeeper left, closing the door behind her, Abigail and Charles both reached for their teacups — their fingers brushing briefly. Abigail pulled back almost immediately, her face flushed and Charles cleared his throat.

"Well," he managed to get out at last, "back to your duties as duchess."

Abigail's eyes widened at this but, to her credit, she merely nodded and looked at him earnestly.

"I suppose I must admit," she said softly, "that I do not know much about the conventional duties of a duchess. My family…" she sighed and gestured vaguely. "Hugh has always been different," she admitted then. "Furthermore, I grew up without a mother so… when he married Harriet, she was the first duchess we've had in the family, and she's not the most conventional either."

She trailed off clumsily and looked at him, her expression earnest. "I suppose I have no idea what to expect," she admitted now and Charles flashed her a sympathetic smile.

"That is quite alright," he said gently. "That is why I am here — I suppose our lessons will take on a whole new meaning now."

Abigail laughed softly at this and even Charles smiled, though it was not without a hint of hesitation.

"I suppose you know," he stumbled a bit over his words, "that the first and foremost duty of a duchess is… to bear an heir… and a spare, as the saying goes…"

Abigail blushed furiously at this and she looked down at her hands as though it was the first time she'd ever seen them. Charles too, looked distinctly uncomfortable.

"Let's not focus on that now," he said quickly, avoiding her by any means possible. "That is a matter we have time for."

"Right," Abigail got out, her voice thin. "What… what else?"

"Well…" Charles moved to sit on the sofa, and he fiddled with his cheroot before putting it aside rather than lighting it. "As a duchess, you will constantly be in the limelight — an unfortunate part of our lives. You will have to throw lavish balls, dinner parties, house parties… and of course you will be expected to support a charitable organization or two. You could sponsor a musician if you wanted…"

Abigail nodded slowly, taking it all in. "What about running the household?" she dared, something she'd seen Harriet do effortlessly.

Charles hesitated. "Mrs. Morgan has been managing things quite capably. But, of course, if you wanted to take a more active role, it would be your right."

"I think I would like that," Abigail said softly. "It's something familiar… Before Hugh married, I always helped a bit. It's something I know… and it'll make me feel… well… useful."

Charles leaned forward slightly and he took her hand in his. "Abigail," he said gently. "I know that hosting parties and wearing beautiful gowns doesn't seem as though it is of much use… but I assure you it is. As my wife, you are responsible for upholding my reputation. People's eyes will follow you and that in turn will cast an impression of me. You will be many things as a duchess… and useful is certainly one of them."

Abigail smiled hesitantly. "I suppose running a household is the one thing I know I cannot mess up," she admitted and he sat back, looking at her with something akin to sympathy in his gaze.

"Alright," he said at last. "We will speak to Mrs. Morgan tomorrow about transitioning some of the responsibilities to you."

Abigail nodded in thanks and they drank their tea in silence for a moment. When at last Abigail spoke up, her voice was hesitant. "Charles, I… I want you to know that I will do my very best to be a good duchess," she said softly. "I will try to make you proud."

Charles looked at her, surprise evident in his eyes. "I have no doubt you will, Abigail," he said softly. "I know that this scandal… it is not the way you wanted to get married, but in the way you handled it… you have shown great poise and grace."

"Thank you," she mumbled, and once again silence settled between them. Charles was the first to rise to his feet, looking at the grandfather clock in the corner as he did so.

"It is getting late," he said now. "I… I shall show you to your sleeping quarters. You will have a lady's maid to attend to you in the morning before breakfast. Mrs. Morgan will arrange for it to be served."

Abigail nodded slowly and she rose to her feet, allowing him to lead her to her bedchamber. The manor, she realized as she followed him up the stairs, was even larger than the one she grew up in.

They walked in uncomfortable silence. His mention of an heir and a spare remained in her mind and her cheeks grew hot. Would he expect her to have children soon? No. No, she was certain he would give her time to get used to the idea. She thought of Graham and how she'd felt a rush of love when she looked down at him, how satisfied and overjoyed both Harriet and Hugh had been… but she shook her head at the thought.

She was not ready to be a mother — not even nearly so. In fact, the thought of motherhood terrified her.

"Here we are," Charles's voice broke through her thoughts and she looked up at him, suddenly worried that he'd be able to read her thoughts in her eyes.

"Well…" Charles seemed just as uncomfortable as she was and he shifted from one foot to the other. "Sleep well."

"Thank you," Abigail managed to mutter before entering her bedchamber. She hardly noticed the room, merely changing into her nightdress before crawling into the bed.

It was odd to sleep in a strange bed, she could not help but think as she stared at the shadows playing upon the roof. Even more odd was the stark realization that she now had a husband. A man who would share his home and his life with her.

Abigail hardly thought she would ever be able to get used to the idea. She sighed before blowing out the lantern and closing her eyes. She was married now — and as difficult as it was, she'd have to get used to it.

Despite her doubts about being able to sleep well in the strangeness of a new house and life, Abigail fell asleep quite easily — only waking when the sun was already up and a soft knock reverberated through her chamber.

"Good morning, Your Grace," a young woman said softly as she entered the room and Abigail looked around, confused for a second, before realizing that she was the one the girl had spoken to. Her face flushed at this.

"Morning," she muttered, suppressing the desire to tell the girl to simply use her name. She was a duchess now and she needed to act like it.

"I am Maria," the girl said with a bright grin. "And I am to be your lady's maid."

"Thank you, Maria," Abigail said as she carefully climbed out of bed and looked at the girl.

"I suppose," she said slowly as she became aware of Maria's gaze on her, "I suppose I ought to dress for breakfast."

Maria smiled at her and nodded. "Of course, Your Grace," she said quickly. "I think the green would look lovely with your hair and coloring."

Abigail nodded simply and moved, allowing Maria to help her dress before the other woman gently guided her to the dresser.

"If you'll sit, Your Grace, I'll do your hair."

With a simple nod, Abigail sat down and a frown settled between her brows as Maria turned her hair into a chignon. This was not something Charles or Hugh ever taught her, she realized. Having a lady's maid to do nearly everything for her was certainly something she would have to get used to.

As soon as the girl was done, she stood back and Abigail rose to her feet. "When… Charles… I mean, His Grace, mentioned that breakfast…"

Maria smiled at her gently. "Breakfast will be served as soon as you are both ready, Your Grace," she said and Abigail nodded. Though a part of her wanted nothing more than to hide in her bedchamber until being duchess no longer felt so foreign, she realized that she quite wanted to see her husband — he was the closest thing to familiarity she had here.

"I will have breakfast now," she announced. "If His Grace is ready."

Maria nodded at this. "I'll take word to the kitchen," she announced before making her way out of the bedchamber. Abigail breathed deeply before slowly walking downstairs to the dining hall — ready to meet her husband for breakfast.